Oh man. This one started off just fine, but it got way too real in some places... -_- For a fully immersive experience, I recommend reading this chapter with Mikami's concerto theme in the background - I listened to it on loop as I was writing.

Thank you so much for all your comments/reviews. Every time a new one appears it totally turns my day around. You have no idea how much I love and appreciate each one.

Until next time folks~

Backstory

MY FATHER ONCE said to me "Yoshi, it's always about who you know, not what you know. Mostly, because you're a pudgy little moron who knows nothing." I've always thought that there was something in that. You see, in my early years I was often alone. I spent my childhood hanging notes from trees, wishing for friends. No one ever came along though. Even at school the only person who would play with me was the janitor - until he got fired. After that I would share my lunch with the stray dogs who slunk about outside the playground.

My father was right, I didn't know much of anything. I was never known to be studious or naturally talented in any way. I wasn't attractive, funny, daring or intelligent. I was thoroughly unremarkable. The only credit my teachers gave me in school reports was for "being there."

I lived in a small apartment with my mom who ran an illegal day care centre out of our front room. When she wasn't wiping butts and noses she worked as a pet stylist giving dogs haircuts in our bathtub. I would watch her - never helping but paralysed by inadequacy at her work ethic. It's true that the older I got, the less motivated I became. Despite her tutoring me in the small hours - the only time she didn't spend working or unconscious - I still attained impressively low scores in all my practice university entrance exams. Most people gain from making mistakes; the only personal lesson I learned was that I had finally uncovered my talent. Failing.

After my mother worked herself to death, it was my father who supported me, but even all the money he spent on cram school didn't make a difference. Then again, as he had so often told me, it's who you know that really counts. My father made a sizable donation to the university and I was accepted as a student. Okay, I wasn't nearly as successful as my brother Toad who graduated with honours and went on to found his own company, but I was still the runner up social undersecretary for the Mario Kart Appreciation Club.

After university my father got me a job at his company. I started off working in the mail room. It was pretty depressing, sorting out correspondence in a long, dark hall that smelt of octopus balls. I'm sure that most of the guys in there with me were ex-convicts too. Most of the time I was so bored that I would send in prank mail to myself. That was, until they had to shut the whole building after that anthrax scare. My father saw this mishap as a chance to create a new opportunity for me, so I started as a clerk on one of the floors with windows. I always liked it best when I got to work in daylight.

Four years on and, after a lot of hopping from department to department, I was given my most recent new opportunity by heading up a subdivision in marketing. The job involved a lot of responsibility and expectation but there were perks of course. I got a name plate on my desk and people started calling me 'sir' instead of 'oh, I thought you were someone else.' Plus the nearest bathrooms were two floors up so I could cry without anyone overhearing.

Then, last year, my father suffered a stroke. It was heart-breaking to see him lying there looking so frail. My brother Toad and I still visit him regularly. The three of us have always had a complicated relationship, sure, but I suppose my father losing the ability to speak has eased the tension slightly. He can't lecture me on my lack of savings or poorly-drawn career plans anymore, but even with his limited cognitive ability he can still summon the look of disappointment in his eye. Toad gets it - he hates the sibling rivalry enforced between us - although he knows that, compared to him, my life is a joke. No, let me rethink that because at least jokes make people smile when they hear about them.

One year on - this year in fact - something extraordinary happened. I was sitting on my usual bench drin- er, eating my lunch with the pigeons when I met an actual, real life shinigami. This lady shinigami introduced herself before bestowing me with an unbelievable power. She gave me a Death Note. You see, it's a notebook of death. Once I'd stopped hyperventilating, I listened to the lady shinigami's offer. Everyday I had to write down the names of thirteen criminals after they had been mentioned in the press. If I did that, then I could use the Death Note however I wanted. At first, I was a little confused by it all, but Miss Rem was very helpful and explained the deal a couple of times. In the end, I decided that this could be an opportunity for me to do some good. The only problem was that I had never killed anyone before. The lady shinigami got a bit mean when I vomited all over the pigeons at the thought of it. She said I had to toughen up and kill the criminals or she would give my Death Note to someone else in the company. Eventually I agreed to do it. I told myself that the criminals were the bad guys anyway, so it was kind of doing society a favour. It didn't stop me from overthinking it all though. I mean, if a person writes someone's name down and they die, does it really make the person a murderer? You tell me. Please, do tell me. I honestly couldn't say either way.

After work each day I would go home for the evening, watch the news and then write down the names afterwards. It felt a little off at first but, like all the other bad feelings, I just pushed it right down. When it came to killing normal people, it was a wholly different matter. I wanted the company to do well and for my father to be proud of me. So, first of all, I killed off a couple of CEOs in the same business sector to get rid of our competition. They all probably had heart disease anyway, apart from the guy who ran marathons for charity.

The Death Note may be a lot of things, but it is useful. I decided that the only way I was going to move up in the company and indeed, life, was to take advantage of its power. The alternative was to be rewarded on my own merit but no one senior to me had expectations low enough. That's why, the next time a promotion came up in marketing, I killed off the two other applicants! When I interviewed for the job I gave the very best impression of myself. Of course, I told them next to nothing - that's how badly I wanted the role. I think, ultimately, the panel was extra understanding because of my father's ill health. That's one of the perks of living my life. Pity.

Now, I couldn't risk other people at the company finding out what I was doing, so I had no choice but to kill off people in other departments. Soon colleagues were noticing me, and not just for the egg smell coming from my briefcase. I formed friendships with Takahashi and Mido, and then Shimura and Kida. Who would have thought that, after all those years of waiting and wishing, that I - Yoshi Hatori - would have real friends. Gone were the days of receiving texts exclusively from Rakuten, or spending Saturday nights eating a whole pizza over the sink. But the good times never last. Or, in my case, they're about to begin and then reality gives you a roundhouse kick in the face. It wasn't long, you understand, before people began suspecting each other. That was around the time when Namikawa, Ooi and Higuchi joined the group. We sort of banded together for protection I suppose. Before long, I was in weekly meetings with them all, deciding which rivals we were going to kill. Everyone was too paranoid to ask each other who was the one actually doing it. In a way it must have been easier for them knowing that they weren't completely responsible. They could sleep at night knowing that the messy part was going to be taken care of by someone else. As for me, years of existential agony have kept me awake into the early hours anyway. And, anyway, I had to look at the positives here. The weekly strategic murder conferences were basically like hanging out with friends. It's not like I could ever say no to them, not with my crippling fear of disappointing people.

Then my life changed forever… I met the beautiful, sweet, charming Misa Amane. I remember the afternoon she sent me that first text, and I assumed she was making fun of me. When it turned out that she wasn't, my friends involved themselves immediately and texting her back became yet another group decision. Despite not understanding why a girl like her would ever willingly and without coercion date me, we still went to lunch. It was, hands down, the best date I have ever been on. Mostly, because she showed up. And she wasn't a forty year old conman whose airfare I had just paid.

Misa and I really hit it off. We're both kind of lonely people and, even better, she admired Kira. I was pretty bummed when I realised that she would never love me just as 'Yoshi' in the same way - not when the idea of Kira appealed so much more to her. I even toyed with the idea of telling Misa but, in the end, I didn't. It was mostly my decision but also the lady shinigami threatened to write my own name in the Death Note when I suggested it.

And so, for a while, things seemed to be going well. Then again, this is me we're talking about. Everything came crashing down on the afternoon that the group voted to kill Toad. I just never thought they would go after the son of their own CEO! Of course, I couldn't say anything. Part of the deal with me working at Yotsuba in the first place was to never admit to being the illegitimate son of the company president. Don't get me wrong, my father loved me. Just not to the extent of public acknowledgement.

It was an incredibly stressful time. I guess I hoped if I just avoided killing Toad that it might all go away, but things didn't quite work out like that. Ooi and Higuchi were the most persistent members of the group; their greed and ambition almost made the pair insatiable. All I could think to do was to delay the killing by talking with some of the others. One night we all met at Mido's place to have a few beers and discuss the meetings. There was no way that I could tell them about being Kira, but we did all agree that it was getting a bit too much. I started to wonder whether the four of us could stand up to the others and maybe disband the group? I felt like I had achieved a lot through the Death Note. I mean I had an awesome job, a girlfriend who was a freaking model, all her cool, gay friends, I wasn't the worst in my pottery class anymore - life really was delivering for once. I would have happily given the notebook back to Miss Rem if I'd been given the chance...

But I wasn't. I screwed up big time. And I know you must be thinking I'm nothing more than a large waste of stretch-marked skin... but, at the very least, I'm an example.

Use me as a lesson of what not to do with your own life.